The runes came to life.
The patch of desert sand instantly disappeared in a cloud of yellow dust. It spread faster than the eye could follow, left, right, and high above.
"Khamsin!" one of Ilathor’s men cried, turning and running. "Sandstorm!" He was soon followed by the rest of the warriors as they fled in panic. Only Jehral and the Prince remained.
Ella smiled, walking forward. Ilathor and Jehral watched as she vanished into the storm. She was lost for a long moment, before she materialised again, walking out of the dust.
Prince Ilathor took a deep breath, looking sideways at Jehral. He walked forward and entered the illusion. Several heartbeats later he emerged, a broad smile on his face.
"There is nothing there. I can even see you, Jehral. It is incredible! Come, enter!"
Jehral entered the seemingly impenetrable barrier, followed closely by Ella and the Prince.
Jehral walked about in amazement. "You could hide five hundred horses in here!"
Prince Ilathor laughed — a bright sound of joy. "You could indeed. Come, I want to see it from the outside again."
They exited and watched the storm with awe. Some of the men had trickled back, bashful expressions on their faces.
Ella watched as two of Ilathor’s men walked up to the illusion, followed by a third man. Rashine. That was when she decided to activate the last sequence.
"Assan-shulanti!" she called.
An outline appeared in the storm - a huge face bearing a formidable scowl.
"Ahhh!" the two warriors jumped and ran away, their eyes wide with terror. Rashine was close on their heels.
The Prince and Jehral laughed uproariously. After a moment, Ella joined in too.
~
"TARN Fasala did this," Jehral said, looking down at the body.
There were six other bodies on the ground. All Prince Ilathor’s men.
The Prince swore. "The enemies of my father. We cannot let this stand."
"Do you plan on excluding them from the gathering of the tribes?" Ella said.
He frowned. "Excluding them? I plan on murdering them. Every last man, woman and child."
"How will you ever unite the tribes if these things continue?"
Jehral touched Ella on the arm. "High Enchantress Evora, you do not understand."
"What’s not to understand? You kill them. They kill you."
"This was a message, High Enchantress," Jehral said. "They are saying that Prince Ilathor does not have the power to call the tribes together. It is an insult. The other tribes will be waiting to see how we respond."
After Ella’s demonstration the Prince had sent messengers to all of the tribes, calling them to a great gathering in the deep desert. He had hinted to Ella that only a powerful leader could call the tribes together; Ella hadn’t realised it would elicit this type of response.
Prince Ilathor was kneeling down, stroking the cheek of one of the men. "Setara, the son of my mother’s cousin."
"Should I call the men together, My Prince?"
The regal figure raised himself up, an expression of determination on his face. "Call the men. We ride to battle."
~
TARN Fasala could muster twice as many warriors as Tarn Teharan. With half of Ilathor’s men hidden by an illusion, the remaining warriors of Tarn Teharan would provide a tempting target.
Rather than a sandstorm, Ella had created the illusion of a great mound of rock. The hidden warriors waited impatiently within its confines as their brothers departed to draw the enemy to their position, while Ella climbed to the top of a far-off formation where she could watch the battle unfold.
The riders of Tarn Teharan came into view at the crest of a mighty dune, Prince Ilathor leading them, clearly recognisable in his gold trim. Their enemy followed closely, and as one the warriors of Tarn Fasala lifted their sabres into the air and spurred their horses forward.
The Prince rode swiftly away from the charging riders, his men forming a ragged formation of fleeing warriors. Seeing their prey trying to escape, the enemy surged ahead, their leader losing control as bloodlust took over his men.
As the Prince passed the illusion, he turned in a tight circle to face the charging riders. He raised his sabre into the air and charged directly at them, the horses quickly gathering momentum.
They met in a mighty clash of beasts and men. Ella saw blood spurt into the air as the sabres cut into flesh. Horses fell to the ground, crushing their riders beneath them.
Once the two groups had passed each other, they both wheeled again in preparation for another charge. Tarn Fasala had lost scores of men. Prince Ilathor had lost even more. They built their speed up again, like two fighting bucks about to meet head on.